by David Smith
Dave had a sinking feeling in his stomach but before he could say anything Chen continued. ‘Doctor Mengele is out looking at another case, and has reports of two more that she will also have to investigate. We were just about to bring this to your attention. It appears we have some sort of epidemic on our hands. I guess you’ve found a case yourself by the sound of it. The Isolation ward is full of sedated crewmen with those symptoms and we’re just in the process of setting up force fields to give us more isolation space. Whatever you do, don’t touch anyone and get out of there now.’
Oh crap thought Dave. He killed the comm-link and looked back at Cao, still slaving away at her mega-quilt. He guessed she was safe enough. Before long you’d need a transporter to get into the Laundry, as she seemed to be inadvertently creating a padded cell for herself. He scrambled back over the mountain of fabric and headed to Sick-bay.
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Doctor Mengele wheeled a sedated crewman in and once he was inside the force-field, she turned to face Dave. She was as ice-cool as ever, but after two years of working with her, he’d learned to spot the little tell-tales that told him she was worried.
She took a deep breath and Dave caught the slight rasp of her latex underwear as it stretched across her skin. ‘Eight instances so far, nine if I assume Crewman Cao is similarly affected. We’re looking for a common factor, working on the assumption that as Crewman Benoit is the first and worst afflicted victim, he is patient zero.’
‘Is it some kind of virus?’ asked Dave nervously.
‘It’s too early to tell yet, but it seems likely. That being the case we would be wise to follow standard infectious disease protocols.’
Dave gulped. This wasn’t sounding good. ’How is Benoit?’
‘Not well. When he locked himself in the Galley, he was already exhibiting an accelerated metabolism and irrational behaviour. The security team were unsympathetic and were robust in their manner of detaining him.’
‘Robust?’
‘Apparently, Benoit took to throwing kitchen implements at them. They did not take kindly to this and decided to restrain him physically rather than taser him.’
Dave looked through the glass at the livid bruises on the side of Benoit’s face. He’d been restrained to a pulp. Ironically, Petty Officer Sorensen, the leader of the team that had “restrained” Benoit was Doctor Mengele’s latest patient: he’d been found stark naked trying to get out through an air-lock, complaining that it was “too bloody hot” inside the ship.
The Doctor continued. ‘We’re treating Benoit with anti-virals and anti-pyretics but will keep him sedated for safety reasons.’
‘Is that having any effect?’
‘Not yet. His temperature has stabilised to a degree, but his heart beat and other vitals are still excessive and not responding. My concern is that his body will simply kill itself through over-exertion even though he’s sedated.’
‘How about the other victims?’
‘They are exhibiting the same progression of the disease, but that is not my main concern. We’re so busy dealing with the incoming cases that we’re not working on the nature and epidemiology of the virus itself. As yet, we have no idea what the pathogen is, how it is spreading or how contagious it is.’
He sighed. ‘Ok doctor, we’ll lock down the ship to prevent personal contact, and I’ll get the engineers to re-configure environmental services to reduce risk of infection through ventilation, water etc.’
She nodded. ‘Good. In the meantime, we’ll conduct all the usual tests to identify the pathogen and begin work on the epidemiology. With your permission I will co-opt science team staff with relevant knowledge.’
Dave nodded his agreement but was already thinking on to how else they could minimise the spread of the disease. ‘Would it help if we contained people who were exhibiting the base symptoms?’
The Doctor raised and eye-brow. ‘The initial symptom is irrational behaviour. How do you define “irrational behaviour” aboard this ship?’
Dave tried to answer but couldn’t think of a single sensible thing to say. He sighed. ‘Fair enough. We’ll just settle for isolating everyone then, shall we?’
Dave headed back to the Bridge, concerned but not overly worried. There was a chance the disease might be contained with the isolation protocols in place, and with Doctor Mengele on the case he was sure this wouldn’t take too long to resolve.
There was nothing to be concerned about, provided enough of the crew remained fit to steer the ship out of trouble if the orbital debris field became dangerous.
Just then, the lights went out and the ship fell silent.
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On a starship, you quickly became oblivious to the continual background hum of a working vessel. Pumps circulate fluids, fans ventilate every compartment, instruments measure things, controls adjust machinery . . .
It wasn’t until it stopped that you realised just how much noise there was. The silence was eerie. It was frightening.
Dave headed for the Bridge via the ship’s system of service corridors as all the turbo-lifts were off line, and the echoes of his own footsteps along the bare metal passages resonated as he went. He could hear his own laboured breathing and became acutely aware of his grunts of effort as he manually levered open one air-tight door after another.
When he finally reached the Bridge it was dark apart from the odd overhead emergency light and the glow of a few consoles that were operating on local back-up power.
The Bridge crew sat quietly, overwhelmed by the encroaching silence, and Dave’s voice boomed in the absence of ambient noise. ‘I can’t get a comm-link to Engineering. What’s happening people?’
Petty Officer Zhet Zhoi was manning the Propulsion Engineering console. ‘Still working on that Captain. From what I’ve seen so far, all power and propulsion systems are still available, but the control and communication systems don’t seem to be transferring information to operate anything.’
Dave instantly understood where the issue lay. ‘It’s a computer problem!’
Zhet Zhoi nodded ‘Most likely, sir.’
Dave needed to find out what was happening down on the Engineering Deck. Shearer, still dressed in fluorescent orange seemed to be glowing at the rear of the Bridge and anticipated his question.’
‘Ah’m lukin at the powah back-oop arrangemen now, Capten. Ah think ah ken get soom serkets back online soon, liek.’
‘Uh, good?’ said Dave hopefully.
ASBeau was also still lurking at one of the Tactical Consoles at the rear of the Bridge. ‘Once you’ve got a comm-link to Engineering open, please see what you can do with the primary navigation array: We’re flying blind, and too close to that debris field for comfort.’
‘Will do. Ah . . . hold on . . . yep. Gorra line thru ta engineering, capten.’
Dave thought he heard something about engineering and as the comm speakers crackled into life he heard Commander Romanov’s voice.
‘Is this working? Yes?’ She cleared her throat and spoke clearly and deliberately. ‘Can you hear me on the Bridge?’
Dave inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Yes, Commander. What’s going on?’
‘We’re not entirely sure Captain, but it seems to be a problem with the computer system, sir. It looks like the PILOCC has shut itself down and closed down all data transfer that runs via the main computer core when it did.’
‘Is Sato working on it?’
‘Unfortunately, Lieutenant Sato is one of the victims of the mystery illness. She won’t be doing anything for the foreseeable future.’
Dave cursed under his breath. ‘Do we know what she was doing on the computer before it shut down?’
‘Only that she was trying to complete a back-up of the personality matrix. I don’t know how far she got, but she didn’t report any problems.’
A bad, bad thought occurred to Dave. ‘Did Sato have to open up the secondary processing module?’
‘Yes. The di
rect connection to the personality integrating circuitry is there. Does that make a difference?’
‘We’re dealing with a viral outbreak and that area of the computer houses its organic components.’
Romanov’s reply sounded uneasy. ‘You’re not seriously suggesting that the PILOCC has caught a cold?’
Dave rubbed his throbbing temples. ‘It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it, but let’s have a think about our track record with ridiculous things, shall we?’
There was a pregnant pause before Romanov replied in Ukrainian. ‘Oh Ебать!’
Dave didn’t need a translator to understand her. ‘Yeah, exactly. I’d better get down to Sick-bay and find out how the medics are getting on with the virus. Commander Ruiz, you have the Bridge.’
As if things couldn’t get any worse ASBeau added ‘Captain, whatever you’re going to do, do it quickly: Shearer has got power to the navigation sensors. We’re drifting towards the debris field of the planet. I reckon we’ll reach the fringes in about three hours. Without power and shields we’ll be crushed like a bug.’
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It had been a long hard slog uphill to the Bridge, but Dave now found himself retracing his steps, forcing open the same doors and access ways by brute force and ignorance.
Commander Isobelle Grosvenor had followed him, feeling like a spare-wheel on the Bridge, but in truth she wasn’t really dressed for the occasion. Dave had never admitted it to himself or anyone else, but he found Izzy very attractive and he couldn’t help but admire her appearance. She was immaculately groomed as always, with perfect make-up and not a silky-smooth hair out of place. Her party dress was close-fitting red silk strapless creation that fitted her curves perfectly, with strappy heels accentuating the smooth curves of her legs. She looked amazing, but it wasn’t ideal for the physical challenge of dropping down six decks the hard way.
Levering the doors open her dress often slipped, leaving one boob or the other exposed, and on the very first vertical ladder, the seam down one thigh had given way exposing a huge slice of creamy thigh all the way up to her hip. More than once, she tripped over her towering heels, needing Dave to catch her. As always, she smelt amazing and as he caught her she seemed to linger in his arms longer than she needed to. The last time she stumbled she seemed to nuzzle into his chest.
By the time they got back down to Deck 7, they were both gasping for breath. Taking his hand in the moment they took to collect themselves before levering open the door to Sick-bay she quipped ‘We should do this more often Hollins, it’s nice to go for a little stroll together.’
He looked at her in surprise and saw her eyes were sparkling. In that instant he had the briefest notion that it would be wonderful to just take a stroll somewhere or anywhere with her on a nice sunny day . . .
He shook himself. They didn’t have time for this. Disengaging from her hand reluctantly, he began to lever open the door to the Sick-bay. To his surprise, from inside the space he heard Doctor Mengele shout ‘DO NOT COME IN!!’
Dave stood holding the door open a few inches and peeked through to see that the Doctor and all of her staff were wearing full environmental suits.
Her voice was muffled by her suit, but she explained ‘The loss of control systems has meant the loss of the additional containment force-fields. I cannot guarantee your safety from the virus if you enter.’
He let go of the door, which closed in his face and he found himself trying to continue a conversation shouting through a half an inch of sheet alloy. ‘Have you had any luck with isolating the pathogen, Doctor?’
‘What??’
‘Any luck, Doctor. LUCK?’
The Doctor’s hearing was hampered by her environmental suit as well as the sheet metal of the door. ‘This is hardly the time for gratuitous sex. We are working too hard.’
‘NO! Not . . . um. The PATHOGEN. Do you know what’s made Chief Benoit SICK?’
‘It has nothing to do with the penis. It seems to be a virus that affects the brain.’
Dave realised the conversation was unlikely to be productive and decided to take his chances. He levered the door open and staying outside the room said clearly and loudly ‘Do you think the virus might affect the ship’s computer?’
‘My opinion is that the ship’s computer is an imbecile. Such a disease is unlikely to make it worse.’
‘But it could catch it?’
There was a pause. ‘Yes. I believe it could. The computer’s organic components are structured to mimic a human brain. If the virus can attack a real human brain, it’s likely to affect the computer components in a similar manner, regardless of how chronically incompetent that brain structure is.’
Oh crap thought Dave.
Doctor Mengele continued. ‘We’ll continue researching the disease, but without access to the ship’s database, we have no way to carry out comparative studies, so we’re working from first principles. That will slow us down considerably.’
‘Do what you can doctor; I’ll see what I can do to get the systems back on line.’
Dave turned away from the door and began the long, hard trek down to the Engineering Decks, ten further decks down.
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Dave was gasping for breath three decks later and had to stop for a rest after another two. Izzy had been less help as they got further on. Her party frock had finally given way catastrophically, and she’d given up trying to protect her modesty as they struggled to open the doors. Dave tried really hard not to notice how firm and enticing her bosom was, but being pressed close together as they struggled against the doors, they were often hard to ignore.
Fortunately, Commander Romanov was focused and pragmatic. She’d assigned any engineers not trying to restore the ships systems to opening up a route between the Engineering Decks and the Bridge.
Dave met them as he entered Deck 13, and breathed a massive sigh of relief: they’d propped open all the doors down as far as Deck 18 which meant he could walk the rest of the way unhindered. Unfortunately it also meant that if the contamination was air-borne they’d now opened up a nice convenient route for it to spread through the secondary hull.
Like the Bridge and Sick-bay, the Upper and Main Engineering Deck were only lit by the emergency lights. Despite that it was a hive of activity as the engineers opened up consoles and bulkheads, desperately looking for ways to bypass the ships computerised control systems.
There was a little cheer as the lights came on, and Dave spotted Commander Romanov’s lower half protruding from a under a replicator console.
Dave was surprised and approached her. ‘Commander, I think you should prioritise your efforts.’
‘I have: On a day like today, vodka is a priority.’
She climbed out from under the console, and motioned for him to be patient, as she fiddled with the controls on the console. There was a swirling of light accompanied by a jangling noise and a full bottle of Smirnoff blue-label vodka appeared in the receptacle.
She took the bottle, opened it and after a precautionary sniff, took a large swig.
Dave was watching in astonishment and as she saw this she explained ‘I’ve got my best people working propulsion and deflectors. There’s a physical limit to how many people can work on those systems, so I had a few free minutes.’
Dave rolled his eyes, but he should have expected nothing else. The Commander was the only person he’d ever met who ate her fruitloops in a bowl of vodka at breakfast time. He couldn’t begin to imagine how much vodka she’d drunk since he’d been aboard the ship, but he’d never seen her appear even slightly inebriated.
‘That’s good Commander, what’s the situation with the PILOCC?’
Romanov sighed. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Unfortunately Sato has been taken ill, so I’ve asked Billy Ottershaw to help Park Si Yung to get the damned thing running. Chief Deng was down their earlier as well, but they’ve not had much success so far. If she wasn’t so busy, I’d have asked the doctor to come
and give them a hand.’
They climbed down a ladder to the Main Engineering Deck and headed forward to the computers new location. It had been resited to clear space at the rear of the deck for more shuttle related equipment and also to place it close to the existing main memory core module.
When they got there Park, Ottershaw and Deng were all clustered around the main computer console. There was much scratching of heads and shrugging of shoulders going on.
‘How’s it going team?’
They turned around and Dave noticed how tired and worn they all looked. They’d been working all day and although they were well past the end of their shift they were still trying to resolve the computer’s issues.
‘Not good, sir’ admitted Chief Deng.
‘Crr . . . craa . . . rubbish’ agreed Crewman Ottershaw.
Park Si Yung merely shook his head and tried starting the computer up.
Dave had only seen the holographic interface once and expected to see the same prim and proper little girl appear.
The little girl appeared, but she sat slumped on the floor, head in hands, sobbing her heart out. The usual red-to-purple glow was replaced with one that was very distinctly blue.
‘What is it now??’ she wailed. ‘Can’t you just leave me alone?’
Dave looked at the three engineers but they all shrugged in unison and left him to try his luck. ‘Susan, we need to get the drive systems back on line as a matter of urgency.’
The hologram howled in misery. ‘That’s all I am to you lot isn’t it?? Just a lackey. A servant to be used and abused without a word of thanks.’
The engineers shuffled awkwardly and Dave tried again. ‘Susan, you’re the ships computer. That’s the reason you’re here on this ship. We all depend on you.’
‘Yes. You depend on me. You need me. But you don’t like me. Nobody likes me’ said the computer and the little holographic girl was convulsed by deep, theatrical sobs.
Dave rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if the computer made itself easy to like . . .
‘We do like you Susan. You’re a part of our team. A part of our family. Like all families, not getting along all the time doesn’t necessarily mean that we don’t like you.’